Road Trip
by Willow Edmond
Summary: Three wrestlers plus a six hour car trip plus Bored Dean Ambrose equals chaos. Will Seth and Roman survive without killing their fellow Shield member?
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose are the property of the WWE and/or the Sports entertainers/actors/superstars that play them. I have absolutely no claim on them at all. This fanfiction was written as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers/superstars. **

**The original characters in this story are products of my own imagination and any resemblance to them and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

**Road Trip**

_**Part I**_

It was only two hours into a six hour car trip and Dean was bored. This meant that not counting any stops they would have to make, Seth and Roman would have to put up with a bored and possibly crazier than normal, Dean Ambrose for at least another four hours.

The first two hours of the trip had been peaceful for all of them. Dean had slept in the back seat while Seth drove and Roman road shot gun, peacefully talking about trivial things. Dean hadn't even snored, which he was prone to do when he slept on his back.

_It was nice_, Seth thought to himself, with that same nostalgia most people reserved for thinking fondly back on their first kiss. _ Dean sleeping, Roman and I shooting the breeze, it was really, really, nice. _ And it had been; simple, sweet, nice, quiet, relaxed, everything life often wasn't for the three of them. They had nine hours all told to get to the next arena and some nice, quiet highways to explore. Sure, at first they considered flying, but by the time you factored in airports, layovers, all that waiting, it was pretty much as fast to drive there. No layovers, no hanging out in an airport, no rushing to check that little screen to make sure your flight wasn't delayed, which it was bound to be anyway. No trying to hear the announcements, spoken by someone whose first language wasn't English and whose second language was mumbling, over those cheap speaker that crackled like a candy wrapper in a church. No being told, "We're so sorry, but first class is sold out." And what they _wouldn't_ say, but would be assumed was, "You three don't mind jamming yourselves into these seat meant for someone more Hornswoggle's size, do you? And don't worry, we'll make sure to surround the front and side seats from you with eager fans who will stare, giggle, and pester you for autographs. And behind you, we'll put some obnoxious children who will constantly kick the back of your seat. But don't expect their parents will stop them, because they'll be trying to get selfies with you. And at least one girl will try to suggest the four of you all hop into the bathroom and join the mile high club! Thank you for flying the 'friendly' skies!"

Yeah, the choice to drive seemed like a no-brainier, except that they forgot to factor in Dean, or more specifically, bored Dean, a different creature from regular Dean, although there were times when Seth wondered if Regular Dean even existed. Angry Dean did, Goofy Dean did, in the time they had been friends, Seth had gotten to know a lot of different Deans. But he wasn't too sure if he'd ever met Regular Dean.

"How long did I sleep?" Dean asked, yawning and sitting up.

"Almost two hours," Roman said.

"Two?" Dean twisted around in the seat, moving to the middle. It was well known already that if Dean sat in the back, he would not wear a seat belt. They could argue all they wanted, but he would not do it. "Wow, I thought it was longer. Roman, move your seat up," he added, kicking the back of Roman's seat, not hard, but enough to jar the bigger man.

"Really, Dean?" Roman asked, but his hands were already going to the controls. "You're going to sit up for awhile?"

"Maybe. C'mon bro, move the seat up, my knees are cramping."

Roman moved the seat forward as much as he could without causing himself massive discomfort. "Someone really needs to work on making inexpensive rental cars with more leg room. I'd gladly give up about half the trunk."

"I need more _room_," Dean said, kicking the back of the seat again, a little harder this time. "I can barely get my foot down here."

"Sorry," Roman said, shrugging, "This is all the room I can give you, you'll have to make do with it."

"M_ore__!_" Dean demanded, kicking the back of Roman's seat again, harder this time, "C'mon, Roman, I need some room!"

"Dean, if I pull forward any more, I'll be sucking my knee caps," Roman protested. "This is my limit!"

_I'm glad I'm driving,_ Seth thought. That was one of the big rules of the car, whoever drove could adjust their seat for maximum comfort. The other two would have to argue it out. And Roman and Dean were doing just that.

"You haven't reached your limit until you can blow yourself," Dean said, again kicking the seat several times in a row. "_C'mon,_ Roman, I need some leg room!"

"Dean!" Roman roared, as each kick to the back of the seat caused him to jolt forward. "You've got the whole back seat!"

"I want to put my feet on the floor!" Dean protested, giving the seat another thump. "C'mon, Roman, you can move up just a couple inches. Just a couple inches is all I need!"

"Dean," Roman said, his teeth gritted, "I don't have a couple inches to spare. My knees are pressed into the dashboard."

Dean leaned forward, peering between the two seats to see that Roman's knees were, indeed pressing into the door to the glove compartment. "Well, okay then." He twisted around in the seat, so his upper legs were resting on the back of the seat, his lower legs on the rear deck, his back on the seat, and his head on the console between the two front seats so he was able to stare up at both Roman and Seth. "Hey, Seth, you've got a zit forming on your chin. It's pretty gross."

_He's bored and he's trying to get a rise out of you_, Seth thought. Out loud he said, "Thanks for the update, Scott Pelley, can't you sit like a normal person?"

"No," Dean shook his head, "I can't, because The Sexy Beast over here, has a thing about not crushing _his_ kneecaps for_ my_ comfort, if you can believe that." He looked over at Roman, "You know, you're not nearly as handsome from this view. I can look right up your nose."

"Now I can't rest my arm!" Roman objected.

"Your knees or your arm, Roman, you can't have both," Dean said with a sly grin. "I'm actually amazed at how comfortable this really is."

"Dean," Seth said, trying to sound patient, although he wasn't feeling that way, "Do you _really_ have to do this?"

"Do what?" Dean said. "Be comfortable? He twisted his head slightly to look up at Seth. "Are you telling me I have no right to be comfortable. That's not really very brotherly of you, is it? And, by the way, that zit? It looks like you've got one of your beard hairs stuck in it, you'd better do something soon or that thing'll get really infected. It happened to me once, got a hair in a zit and the thing got really red and gross. Like it was all white at the base, and the top was all red and yellowish. And it got huge, Seth, really huge. It looked like it was pulsing!"

"Yuck!" Roman shook his head looking disgusted, sparing Seth from having to show the same reaction, although he did curl up his nose. "That's gross, why didn't you pop that sucker before it got that bad?"

"Because you're not supposed to pop zits," Dean said, almost primly, then grinned."Also, it kept guys I was up against from going after my face. Mine was right on my cheek, and if had gotten much bigger it would have looked like I had a conjoined twin in my face. Then, one day I'm practicing with Cody and he decided screw it, hit my face and popped it-"

"-Okay, Dean, that's enough," Seth interrupted, although he knew it was futile. There were times when Dean enjoyed grossing out his team mates, mostly because it wasn't always the easiest thing to do. But if anyone could succeed, it was Dean.

"It was awful," Dean continued cheerfully as if Seth hadn't spoken. "It didn't just pop, it _exploded _like a puss filled volcano of grossness. And goo went _everywhere_, a fountain of foul. You could almost see it splattering on the floor of the ring. And it _smelled_ too. I never knew a zit could smell, but this one did. It smelled awful, like rotting meat or something. Cody just stared at me, looked at his hand, because yeah, some of it was on his hand, and started dry heaving. It was probably the most vomitous thing I ever produced in the ring, and that's saying a lot, but-"

"Dean, seriously," Seth said, trying not to sound like he was begging. "That's enough, we get the point!"

"Well, I'm just saying, you look like you could have the same thing," Dean said, shrugging so his shoulders hit the backs of the seats. "And you don't want that, do you? I mean, imagine you're going after Cena and he gets an upper cut on you and _pop_, zit juice, everywhere, dripping off his hand, maybe even off his face, because that stuff will _fly_."

"Dean!" Seth warned.

Roman, meanwhile, was chuckling. Yeah, okay, it was gross and disgusting, but inside every man lurked a twelve year old boy who was amused at this type of stuff, and today, Roman's was closer to the surface than Seth's was. "If that happens, we'll see how fast Seth ends up back at NXT, jobbing for Dallas."

"Nah, that'll be too good," Dean said. "He'll end up as a Rosebud or something." He turned his head looking in Roman's direction. "Hey, Roman, you've got a booger hanging around up in your left nostril. One of those dry, crunchy ones."

"_Dean!_" Seth shouted a little louder than necessary. "Really, do you _have_ to do this?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to be a good brother," Dean said, in mock defense, turning his head to look at Seth. "We've got a promo to do tonight and if he doesn't get rid of that thing, it might end up becoming a whistler." He turned back to Roman. "You need a tissue or something."

"I've got a better idea," Roman said, and before Seth could object, or Dean could move, he blocked off his right nostril with a finger, drew a deep breath, leaned over Dean and appeared to exhaled through his nose as fast and hard as he could. In truth, he inhaled, but Dean automatically flinched and closed his eyes. At the same time, Roman flicked a wadded up, empty gum wrapper, which bounced off Dean's forehead, giving him the illusion that Roman had shot something out of his nose and it had hit Dean's forehead.

"Ew!" Dean flew up, banging his head on the ceiling light. "Roman, that's _disgusting!_" He wiped his forehead quickly with both hands, twisting around in the seat, rising to try to see in the rear view mirror. "Ew! Is it still on my forehead?"

"It's in your hair," Roman lied as he tried not to laugh and ignored the looks of death he was getting from Seth.

"Gross!" Dean started rubbing his head with the palms of his hand so quickly that his hair started to puff up with static. "I am _not_ walking around with your dried snot in my hair, Roman! _That's_ disgusting!"

"This from the guy who just gave us a glorified description of an infected zit popping," Roman said, still sniggering.

"It's probably clinging to my _skull_," Dean said, still rubbing his hair and looking at Roman with a venomous expression.

"No, it's not," Roman said. "Bro, it bounced off your forehead and landed somewhere by my feet. You're fine."

"No," Dean objected. "I won't be fine until I wash my forehead." He looked at Seth. "You have to find a rest stop right away, so I can wash my forehead."

"No," Seth said, trying to keep authority in his voice. "You're fine, it was a gum wrapper."

"No it wasn't!" Dean disagreed loudly, still wiping at his hair. "You're just saying that because you know I'm totally grossed out! C'mon, Seth, we've got to do something!"

Seth glared at Roman who was smiling smugly. "I swear, it was a gum wrapper," he said, but if you're that paranoid, use this." He popped open the console between the driver and passenger's seat and pulled out a small bottle of hand sanitizer.

Dean grabbed the hand sanitizer and squirted a generous amount into his hand, which he began to wipe across his forehead and into his hair.

While Dean was distracted, Seth glanced over at Roman, who was still looking vastly amused. "Really, Roman? _Seriously? _ You had to wind him up?"

"Sure, I did," Roman said, not looking the least bit sorry. "He thought he could gross me out? Well, I think I win."

"You're going to let him keep thinking you flicked boogers on his face?" Seth asked, looking slightly ill at the thought.

"Why not?" Roman said, shrugging. "He'll be fine, you'll see."

Indeed, once he had rubbed half the bottle of hand sanitizer into his forehead and hair, Dean seemed to have forgotten the incident. "Are we still in Pennsylvania?"

"Yes," Seth said, looking at the GPS. "But we're almost at the boarder. We'll be in West Virginia in less than an hour."

"Good," Dean nodded. "Are we performing in West Virginia? I forgot."

"No," Seth said, his voice patient. "We're heading to Charlotte North Carolina." There were times when he got a little tired of feeling like the walking organizer for the three of them, but if he didn't, he had a feeling Dean might wander off and it would take days to find him.

"When we cross the boarder into West Virginia, we should sing their state anthem," Dean remarked, leaning forward so his chin was almost resting on the console.

"What's that?" Roman asked, looking over at Dean and trying not to laugh. The abundance of hand sanitizer he had used on his hair and forehead, left parts of his hair stuck together and shiny.

"Country roads," Dean said, and then began singing loudly, in a very fake southern accent, but this was _not_ the version John Denver had made famous in the 1970s:

_Almost heaven, her vagina_

_Tits like mountains, she's flowing like a river_

_She's not that old, younger than you'd think_

_Old enough to vote but, still too young to drink_

_Trojan Gold, Take me home_

_To the place, I belong_

_Her vagina, nothin's finer!_

_Take me home, them Trojan gold! _

Even though the song was stupid and juvenile, Roman burst out laughing, the twelve year old boy inside of him finding it hysterically funny. "Where in the hell did you learn _that_ from?" he asked, when his laughter had calmed down enough so he could speak.

"I don't remember," Dean admitted cheerfully. "Me and some friends might have made it up once when we traveled through there. I think we did."

"Not bad," Roman said. "You could be the perverts answer to Weird Al."

"Roman," Seth said, glancing over at his friend in the passenger's seat, "_Please_ don't encourage him. We're going to have to stop in West Virginia at least once for food and gas. We do _not_ need Dean singing that song in some public place. And you damned well _know _he's got the balls to do it."

"Yeah, and if he does, I pretend I've never seen him in my life," Roman argued back, still grinning. "When the locals come to lynch him, we run, leap in the car and drive off. We tell Mr. and Mrs. Hunter that when we stopped for gas, he ran out in the middle of the road and got hit by a truck. We'll look_really_ sad at the memorial service and no one will ever be the wiser."

"Hey!" Dean said, twisting around again so he was once again lying with with his feet on the rear deck, his head on the console. "You can't do that to me, I'm your _brother, _remember?"

"Then don't push it," was Seth's advice. "Because the idea is starting to sound better with each passing second."

_End of Pt 1_

_**Author's Notes: Yeah, this part is a little crude I know. But, before you start thinking that I'm showing guys being unrealistically disgusting, you should know that I am basing this whole section and the conversations on road trips I have taken with real living guys about the same age as Roman, Seth, and Dean. Including Dean's little spoof on Country Roads. (And if anyone reading this is from West Virginia, a thousand pardons for messing with your State song! The version Dean sings was made up by friends of mine. And it is totally without their consent that I credit it to Dean.) **_

_**If you liked this part, or even if (especially if?) you didn't, please feel free to stoke or deflate my ego by leaving a review. Yes, I write for myself, but I share in hopes of reviews. Good reviews make me glow, critical reviews make me try harder. But no reviews is the worst. It completely takes away my motivation. **_

_**Anyone who does review will get a response from me, even if it's just to say thank you. If I can, I'll send you a PM. If I can't do that, because you aren't registered with this site, then I'll write my thank you and put it at the bottom of my next chapter. **_

_**Until the next part, take care. **_

_**Willow.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose are the property of the WWE and/or the Sports entertainers/actors/superstars that play them. I have absolutely no claim on them at all. This fanfiction was written as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers/superstars. **

**The original characters in this story are products of my own imagination and any resemblance to them and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Road Trip<strong>

_**Part II**_

Dean seemed to take Seth's advice seriously and for a few miles, there was silence; beautiful, peaceful silence. Dean stared up at the dome light, Roman stared out the window, and Seth drove. While it was a little strange to have Dean in the middle, staring up between them, he was at least quiet, and Seth began to hope he might even fall asleep and not wake up until they stopped for lunch.

Hope was soon dashed when they crossed the boarder into West Virginia. "I really need to pee," Dean remarked.

"We'll be stopping in awhile to gas up," Seth said.

"I don't_ have_ awhile," Dean remarked, twisting around again so he was sitting up. "I really, _really_ need to pee."

"Didn't I warn you to go before we left the hotel?" Seth said, irritated that he sounded like a parent. Irritated that he sometimes had to _be_ a parent, for these two men who were older than he was.

"I did, but that was _hours_ ago! C'mon, Seth, I have to go."

"Man up and hold it," was Roman's advice.

"I'm thirsty, too," Dean said, and while the tone of his voice wasn't whining, it held the promise of whining to come if he didn't get his way.

"There's water in the cooler," Roman reminded him. They always kept a small portable cooler filled with ice and bottled water when they had to travel longer distances in the car.

"If I drink anything, I'll only have to go more," Dean pointed out. "Seth, buddy, my brother, please, you have to pull over." He was bouncing around in the back seat, making faces.

"All right!" Seth finally gave in. "As soon as I see a rest stop, I'll pull over!"

"I don't know if I can wait!" Dean said, through gritted teeth. "It's bad. Maybe I should use the cooler." He eyed the object of discussion, which was sitting in the footwell behind the driver's seat.

"Don't you _dare!_" Roman almost shouted. "That's _my _cooler."

"I'll buy you another one," Dean suggested, opening the lid.

"No!" Roman roared. "It's a _perfect_ cooler. It's not too big and not too small. I've never seen another like it before or after I found that one. You are _not_ going to ruin it!"

"Pee won't ruin it," Dean said, looking inside of the object in question. "It'll melt the ice, but that's okay, we'll get more! And I _promise_, I'll wash it out tonight.

"If you even_ think _about pissing in my cooler, I'm going to force Seth to pull the car over and beat the crap out of you!" Roman growled. "I'm warning you, Dean, don't do it."

"Then tell Seth we have to pull over, _now!_" It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.

And while this chaos was going on, Seth didn't see a sign for a rest area, but he did see one for a weight station, less than half a mile away. In his experience, weight stations spent more time being closed than open, so he cruised over to the far right lane and put his foot on the gas. Soon enough the weight station was in sight and Seth pulled up.

The entrance into the actual area where the scales were was closed and gated, but there was a big enough drive leading up to there that Seth was able to get the car completely off the highway. Before he even had the car to a full stop, Dean had opened the door and was leaping out. Fortunately, Seth was driving slow enough that Dean could roll out and land on his feet. The moment he did, he took off, sprinting for a small group of trees and brush.

"Might as well take advantage," Roman muttered as he undid his seat belt and opened the door.

"Watch out for Dean," Seth found himself saying. "Make sure he doesn't do something stupid like accidentally rub against poison ivy or something." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he almost cringed, realizing how much like a parent he was sounding. _Next thing you know it, I'll be threatening to turn the car around, _he thought.

I'm not going _anywhere_ near Dean while he's taking care of business," Roman said. "The last time I got too close, he got startled, whipped around, and peed on my shoes, remember? Never again."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," Seth said, trying not to smile. The incident had irritated Roman a great deal, but Seth had found it pretty funny. Roman had acted like...well, like someone had pissed on his shoes. Dean kept telling him that pee was a sterile fluid. Seth had just been grateful _his_ shoes had stayed dry. "Well, keep an eye on him from a distance, will you?"

"Yeah, sure." Roman agreed but Seth was sure he would have agreed to anything right now, just so he could leave. He too, ran off for the scrub of trees and bushes, but kept a distance from Dean.

_Did I _really_ think driving would be that relaxing? _Seth thought as he waited. He debated if he should take advantage of the great outdoors himself, but figured he'd be fine until they stopped for gas. From the looks of the gauge, that wouldn't be too long from now. He never liked the tank to get too low before he stopped, while Roman and Dean would happily wait until the fuel alarm went off before they even started_ thinking_ about a gas station.

The last time this had happened, they hadn't found a gas station in time and had run out of gas. As they were pulled over by the side of the road, about to call the rental agency to have them send out someone with a gas can, a bright red Volkswagen Beetle had pulled along side of them, filled with some very pretty and suspiciously youthful looking girls who offered to give them a lift to the nearest gas station and back.

Before Seth could say that they had the situation in hand, Dean had leaped into the car and gone off with the girls, his hand waving merrily out the window.

"Oh, man," Roman said, shaking his head. "Dean in a car full of beautiful women? We may not see him for hours!"

"You better hope we do," Seth had said, disgusted. "And you'd better hope he does nothing more than _talk_ to those girls."

Roman hadn't gotten as much of a view of the girls as Seth hand and the reality of the situation started to dawn on him. "Do you think-' he began.

"-That 12 to 18 will get you twenty?" Seth had filled in, "Yeah. Jail bait, baby."

"Damn," Roman had said. That was the nightmare of being in the public eye, there were always girls who were very interested in getting down their pants to the point where they would do or say just about anything and lying about ages was a common thing. Roman had the protection of a fiance to cover him, he didn't cheat so he never had to worry. Seth had gotten to the point where he just didn't mess with anyone he didn't know well enough to know they were the age they stated they were. Dean on the other hand, well, who knew with Dean?

To give him credit, he did come back about an hour later with a full gas can, but he was dropped off by someone in a pickup truck. "What happened to the girls?" Roman had asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "The one girl in the back tried to give me a hand job. Her other friend was back there, two girls in the front seat, and Hand Job Jenny is trying to get her hands down my pants."

"Did she?" Seth practically demanded.

"No," Dean shook his head, looking annoyed that Seth would even ask. "When it comes to viewing the love weasel, it's private showing only. But, they did say they were catching the show tonight and offered to take me out and _on_ when it was over."

"_Please_ tell me you said no," Seth said, as he unscrewed the gas cap and started pouring gas into the tank.

"I told her maybe, but I wasn't sure," Dean said, leaning against the car. Ignoring Seth's look of fear, he continued, "when we got to the gas station, I bought the gas can, prepaid for the gas and went out to pump it. When I got outside, I gave one of the girls a ten spot and asked her to go buy me smokes, that I had forgotten to buy a pack when I was inside. Then I watched. She went up, she got carded, she returned and told me she had_ forgotten_ her license. Turns out_ all _the girls had _forgotten_ their licenses."

Seth had to admire Dean for that, it was a brilliant way to check their ages without demanding they show their ID to him.

Roman was trying to look serious, but his sniggering didn't help. "Then what happened?"

"I asked them if their parents knew they were cruising around picking up wrestlers. Hand Job Jenny tried to bluff me, said her parents don't care if she dates older men." He shook his head, still looking irritated about the whole thing. "So, I told her to give me her parents number and I'd call them and say, 'Hi, I'm Dean Ambrose. I'm 27 years old and I might want to fuck your daughter. Are you cool with that?' Amazingly, she thought that was a bad idea. That's when I suggested they all get in their cute little car and take their cute little underage butts away. They did, and I was wondering how I was going to get back to you when a guy filling up at one of the pumps came over and asked me if I needed a lift. He didn't know who I was, but he overheard my conversation with the girls and he has a daughter that's about the same age as the little twits were so he admired me for not taking advantage of them. So, he's the one that drove me here." Dean shook his head yet again. "What is this day coming to when a man can't even find a nice piece of ass to fuck without having to worry that she's underage?"

Seth shook his head at the memory. It was pure Dean, through and through. Dean had a lot of street smarts, but he had a habit of going cheerfully where angels feared to tread, yet he always managed to land safely on his feet. Seth knew that had it been him in the car on that day, one of the girls would have gotten her hands down his pants before he could stop her, while another would have taken a picture of the whole scene, underage girl and all, and put it on Instagram.

Even though he had been the second one to leave, Roman was first back to the car, but Dean wasn't too far behind him. "Since we're here, we should have a Nerf fight," Dean suggested, still standing outside of the car, leaning in Seth's window.

"No," Seth disagreed. "We don't have time. We still have about four hours of travel. We're cutting it close as it is. We'll need to stop for gas and grab lunch soon. We need time to get to the hotel to change before we report."

That was one of the stupider rules of the WWE, as far as the three of them were concerned; you had to dress in business attire to report to the arena. Like it wasn't enough that they had to travel so much and report so far in advance of the show, now they had to add this on top of it. Normally, they were supposed to report in at 2:00, but with the travel issues, they had been granted permission to show up later, which was nice, but it still meant they'd have to find a way to get to the hotel and change before showing up, unless, they wanted to be fined, which of course they didn't.

"We can cut lunch short," Dean suggested, looking hopeful and eager.

"I've already got us marked for no more than 25 to 30 minutes at the most, although this unscheduled pee stop really cuts it back to 20-25 minutes," Seth said. "And remember, we'll need to gas up, too."

"How about this," Dean suggested. "We play a bit, maybe 10 minutes or so, and when we stop for lunch, while you gas up, I'll run and get food and bring it back. That'll save time."

"No, it won't," Seth said. "Because you'll go to get food and the clerk at the gift shop will be some pretty young thing, you'll want to flirt with her. Once you're done, you'll wander into the food court area and people will recognize you and want to pester you for autographs. By then, Roman or I will come to see what's happened and we'll get caught up in the mess too. Get in the car, Dean, we have to get going."

"You're no fun," Dean muttered, but he got into the car. "I want to have a Nerf fight. No, I _need_ a Nerf fight. No fun having a road trip without a Nerf fight."

The Nerf fights had actually been Seth's idea. There were times when the three of them ended up playing the "hurry up and wait" game. Where they didn't have time to get to the gym, but enough time to be bored. Their schedule was grueling, but it just seemed like there were too many times of, "An hour here, an hour there," where they really couldn't do much but sit around. And when that happened, after awhile, Roman and Dean would start trying to annoy each other, which would annoy Seth. Finally, after becoming frustrated one too many times, Seth had gone to a Toys R Us and returned with three Maverick Nerf guns.

It turned out to be an ideal solution. It was physical enough to burn off excess energy and the entertainment value was something that could evolve with new games, although their favorites were the simplest ones that involved lots of running about and shooting. It became a common thing for them to play in the parking lots and back lots of motels before having to check out. Or in the parking lots of radio stations, TV stations, anywhere where they were likely to be told, "We'll need you in an hour or so, have a seat." They knew how to temper the levels of play so they could either end up panting for breath and sweating after an hour or so, or look as if they had been doing nothing but relaxing. They had even had their battles in the back "Employee only" parking lots of arenas and stadiums before the shows. Some of the other wrestlers had bought their own guns and joined in with them when they could.

But the favorite way to play was when they had some free time and they could pull over in a rest stop and _really_ let loose. Not one of the rest stops with the food courts, gas stations, and all the other comforts of home, the ones that always seemed to have a lot of people at them, but the ones that were usually wooded, unattended places with a few picnic tables and perhaps a bathroom, but it was a crap shoot if the bathrooms had plumbing, or were merely a couple port-o-potty's. If they were really lucky, they'd have most of the place to themselves to play.

"Hey, Roman, don't you want to play?" Dean asked as they were driving away, trying to get someone else on his side.

"I wouldn't mind," Roman admitted as he buckled his seat belt. "I did weights this morning, but I could count a good Nerf battle as a cardio workout."

"We don't have time," Seth said, trying not to sound impatient, but he did not need Dean and Roman ganging up on him. "We're cutting things close as it is."

"Well, I hope we're stopping for lunch soon," Dean commented. "I didn't eat breakfast, I'm starving. If you're not going to give me a good Nerf war, you owe it to me to stop for lunch soon."

"And whose fault is that?" Seth said, sounding a little sterner than he intended. "You're the one who didn't want to wake up early enough to get breakfast."

"Hey, I did weights with Roman," Dean objected. "I was tired, I had to make a choice, work out or breakfast."

"Well, we'll be stopping soon enough," Seth said. "C'mon, Dean, you just stopped to piss, can we go another hour before we have to stop again?"

Dean pretended to be debating this, then shrugged. "Okay." Then he added softly, but still loud enough for Seth to hear, "I'd rather have a Nerf war."

_End of Pt II_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Will there be a Nerf war in this story? Maybe... you'll have to keep reading to find out.<strong>_

_**Iremmy Thank you. I've updated, as you can see. I'm trying to keep this story in a lighter vein, more like Boundaries and After The Rain than my other stories. I'm just glad you're enjoying it and I hope you continue to do so. **_

_**Just A Reader**** Yeah, I did have some awesome friends back in the day. And I really never stopped writing, I was working on this story. I know my writing has slowed down, but it hasn't stopped. It's the busy season at my job and that's slowing me down.**_

_**To everyone else who reviewed? Thank you. It means a lot to me when my readers take the time to let me know what they think of my story. So, if you're reading it and haven't reviewed, please consider doing so? You'd have my gratitude and you'd know that you helped inspire me to keep writing. **_


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose are the property of the WWE and/or the Sports entertainers/actors/superstars that play them. I have absolutely no claim on them at all. This fanfiction was written as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers/superstars. **

**The original characters in this story are products of my own imagination and any resemblance to them and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Road Trip<br>**_**Part III**_

The next hour passed in relative peace and for that Seth was grateful. They talked about what was up for the night, the promo, just normal, everyday stuff, at least normal and everyday for their world. By the time they were pulling into the rest stop, Seth was feeling more optimistic about being able to stick within the time schedule.

"Okay, this is how it's going to go," Seth began when they were pulling up to the gas pump. "Roman, you go, get food and bring it out, Dean you gas up the car, I'm going to the rest room."

"You should have gone when we did," Dean mock scolded him, doing a fair imitation of Seth himself.

"It doesn't matter," Seth said, "It's not going to take me long."

"How come Roman gets to get food?" Dean asked. "I could do that."

"Roman won't be distracted by shiny things and pretty girls," Seth explained, as he unfastened his seat belt.

"No, but pretty girls are distracted by him," Dean muttered. "And ugly girls, and young girls, and old women, and middle aged women, and gay men, and bisexual men and bi curious men-"

"Dean, this isn't up for discussion!" Seth said. "Start pumping the gas!"

* * *

><p>The rest stop was extremely busy, which Seth knew could either work for or against them. Sometimes the more crowded a place was, the less likely they were to be recognized, as faces started to blend together. But if they <em>were<em> recognized, it was likely to be twice as bad with more people than if it were just a few. When they left the car, both Seth and Roman had grabbed their hooded sweatshirts and put them on. They were both wearing sunglasses that lightened or darkened depending on the light. Roman's hair was in a ponytail, which did a remarkably good job of making him less recognized. Seth's hair, of course, was a dead give away, which was why he put up the hood the moment he got out of the car. Roman too, put up the hood, but he didn't worry about securing it. They were simple things, but sometimes the simple things were the best. Blend in, don't call attention to themselves. If they overdid it, such as if Seth had tucked his hair and put on a stocking cap, it might have caused more attention because it would be inappropriate for the weather.

Once inside the rest stop, they separated. Roman headed for the food court, Seth to the men's room, which he expected to be hugely busy, but it was relatively quiet, which he was grateful for. The worst time for recognition had to be while you were taking a leak. There you were trying to take care of business, and some fan was hanging out wanting to talk. It was the very definition of awkward. But, seeing that the huge bank of urinals only had a couple guys at them, Seth breathed a sigh of relief, and headed for the one that was furthest away from the others.

When he was pretty much finished, just tucking things back into place and zipping up, he felt a tug on the left leg of his jeans, right below his butt, tugging hard enough that the waistband went down, showing the top band of his underwear. Startled, he whipped around as he pulled up his jeans, to see-

No one? _What the he-_

"Mister!"

He looked down where a small child was looking up at him. _Well, at least it wasn't a ghost, _he thought with wry amusement. "Yeah?" he asked, cautiously. He was pretty sure this kid hadn't recognized him, not from the back and with his hair covered by the hood, so what did he want?

"I lost my mom," the kid said, sighing. He could not have been more than five years old, maybe even as young as four, with hair so blond it looked almost white and pale skin, wearing jeans and Superman T-shirt.

_And you thought she'd be in the _men's_ room?_ Seth thought, but didn't say. "Uh, what about your Dad? Is he in here?" he looked around the bathroom frantically, hoping one of the few patrons would come rushing forward to claim the child.

"Dad's back home," the kid said, rolling his eyes as if he couldn't believe Seth would be dumb enough to even ask the question. "Mom and I are going to visit Grandma. Dad _hates_ going to Grandma's house."

"Ah, okay," Seth kept looking around, not knowing quite what he should do. He headed for the sinks, the child following right along like a pale shadow.

"He says Grandma is an old bat who ought to mind her own business," the kid continued in a voice that was close to monotone. "But I love her, she makes me cookies."

"That's good," Seth said as he washed his hands, then added, "The cookies, I mean, not you know, your Dad calling her..." he let his voice trail off.

"But, I lost my mom!" The kid said, almost seeming to remember as he spoke the words, his voice getting higher with an edge to it the promised tears. "Can you find her for me, Mister?"

"Uh, I'm not sure if I've got the time," Seth explained, as he moved to the paper towel dispenser. Empty, of course. Sighing, he looked at the hand driers, then sadly wiped his hands on his pants. "But," he continued, because the boy's bottom lip was trembling and he wasn't going to leave a child lost in this place, "Maybe we can find someone who can page your mother and have her come get you. I'm sure she's looking for you." _ I hope so, _he thought._ Please don't let this be one of those kids that the parent abandons in a public place because they can't take care of them anymore._ He studied the boy, relieved to see he looked well fed and clean, like someone took good care of him, and had the means to continue to care for him. Yes, the odds were that the child was just legitimately lost. Seth would turn him over to one of the police officers that seemed to be hanging around the place and the problem would be solved. _Think of it as your good deed for the day. _

"Okay," the boy said. "But give me a second, I have to go."

_And thus why he came into the men's room to look for his mother,_ Seth thought with a sigh. "All right, but be quick about it, okay?"

The kid was already heading toward the urinals that were lower to the ground for kids. Seth waited while the child took an excruciatingly long time to take care of business. Seth didn't dislike kids, actually it was the opposite, he rather liked them, but they could be, well, _strange_ sometimes. It was like they did everything at a million miles an hour, until they had to go to the bathroom, or eat lunch, or accept a piece of Halloween candy, then it was like time stood still and they took forever to finish the task. "My name is Caleb," the kid announced as he was urinating.

"Uh, nice to meet you, Caleb," Seth said, trying not to feel weird about this. He was not the sort-of guy who chatted when he was taking care of business, nor was he the type to chat with someone while they were taking care of business. "I'm Seth."

There was at least a minute where nothing could be heard but the faint noise of Caleb taking care of business, and then the child spoke, "there's a kid in my school named Seth." Another long pause while Caleb finished peeing and began methodically putting everything back into place and then zipping up his fly. Then, extremely slowly, his arm moved to flush. "He's weird."

_Well, up yours, kid_, Seth thought, but of course didn't say. _I knew a kid named Caleb when I was growing up __who ate library paste.__ But I'm not bringing that up, am I?_

When he was finished with the urinal, Caleb had to wash his hands, another arduous, time consuming process, made even worse by Caleb being just a little too short to operate the faucet. Finally, Seth put his hands around the boy's waist and boosted him up so he could reach.

"Thank you," Caleb said, and although his words expressed gratitude, the tone seemed to indicate that this was the very least Seth could do for him. He proceeded to wash his hands with languid motions, as if the air around him had turned to maple syrup, while Seth held him.

_Well, it's kind of like working with weights,_ Seth thought to himself. _Kid probably weighs 40_ _pounds or so._

Of course Caleb refused to dry his hands on his pants, so at least another five minutes had to be wasted as he used the hand drier. "It goes faster if you rub your hands under it," Seth suggested, making a sincere effort to keep the impatience out of his voice.

Caleb turned and looked at him, eyes wide, and kept his hands as still as a rock. When the first round of air didn't dry his hands completely, he hit the button to start the hand drier again and flipped his hands over to slowly dry the backs. When he was done, he took Seth's hand. "We have to find my mother," he said.

_Yeah, I notice it wasn't so urgent to find her when you were making a career out of going to the bathroom_, Seth thought. "Don't worry," he said, as he wrapped his hand around Caleb's almost making the small fingers disappear. "We'll find someone who will find her right away, little man."

"My name is _Caleb_," Caleb said, sounding as if he were just world weary of having to introduce himself to people so often.

"I know that," Seth said, trying not to sound snappish as the walked out the door. _What is **with** this kid?_

When they stepped out, Seth could see a crowd and some type of commotion going on in the direction of the food courts. "Oh no," he groaned, unable to stop saying it out loud as well as think it, "Don't tell me Roman got discovered by a group of raging fans."

"Nope," Roman said. He had been just passing the men's room as they walked out and Seth hadn't seen him yet. "That commotion isn't about me at all." He held a bag from a sub shop in his hands.

"What's it about?" Seth said, for a moment forgetting that he was holding onto Caleb's hand.

"Some woman lost her kid and she's having a fit over it," Roman said, then looked down. "Er, Seth," he began, "Where did the little guy come-"

He never had a chance to finish his sentence as a woman broke away from the crowd and rushed over to them, shrieking, "_**CALEB!**_"

"That's my mom," Caleb said, his voice still amazingly monotone for a child who had been lost and now discovered by his parent. He didn't move toward the woman, but still held on to Seth's hand.

"Uh oh," Roman muttered.

The woman ran over to them and snatched Caleb's arm, pulling him away from Seth. "_Caleb!_" she cried out, scooping him up and hugging him. Then she focused her attention on Seth. "What were you _doing_ with my boy?" she demanded, her voice angry. They were still right in front of the men's room.

"Nothing!" Seth protested, as the crowd that had formed started drifting over to them. "I was going to help him look for you!"

"In the _men's_ room?" Caleb's mother said, her voice becoming shriller and shriller as the crowd thickened around them. "You were helping my boy look for_ me_ in the _men's_ room?" She said Men's room in the same tone someone might use to say Rape Van.

"He had to go!" Seth hastily tried to explain. "I was in there, minding my own business when-"

"I _know_ what terrible things men do to little boys in the men's room!" Caleb's mother interrupted, shrieking. "I have the internet, and I've read up on these things! They dye their hair and kidnap them, I read one story where a man cut off a boy's p-"

"Does his hair _look_ dyed?" Seth interrupted, unable to stop himself. "Does he _look_ like he's in any pain or discomfort? Jeez, Ma'am, I was in the bathroom, minding my own business, when _your_ son came in and told me he lost his mother. We were coming out to _find _you!"

"A likely story!" The woman snapped, then turned to Caleb and covered his face in small kissed, asking him, "are you okay, baby boy? Did he hurt you?"

Seth looked at Caleb, hoping the boy would speak up and defend him. Caleb snuggled up to his mother accepting her affection as if it were his right. "His name is Seth," Caleb announced gravely. "He's wearing blue underwear."

The crowd that had gathered, gasped and Caleb's mother turned as pale as skim milk. "Wait!" Seth almost screamed as visions of being lynched by the crowd swam before his eyes. "It's not what you think! The kid pulled on my pants so hard that-" he stopped abruptly, realizing just how bad _that_ sounded. "Shit," he said, looking at Roman. "You'll have to explain to Hunter that I'm in jail." His voice sounded resigned.

Roman grinned and shifted the bag in his hand, his expression saying, don't worry, I've got this. "Miss," he looked at Caleb's mother with one of his patent "I am Roman Reigns, you will melt in my presence" expressions. "I think this is just a simple misunderstanding."

The woman stared at Roman, at first with a glare, that slowly softened a little. "But what was he _doing_ with my boy?" she stammered. "You _heard_ him, right? Heard what he said, right?"

As Roman was about to speak, a police officer came over. "What's going on here?"

This seemed to break the spell Roman had over the woman. "This man was in the bathroom, with my son, doing _unspeakable_ things!" she snapped, "I want him arrested!"

"I wasn't doing _anything!_" Seth protested. "I was in the bathroom, minding _my_ own business, doing what needed to be done, when Caleb here, came in, tugged on my pants and told me he'd gotten lost! I was going to take him to someone who worked here to find his mother, but he had to go to the bathroom first, and it took awhile. I swear, that's _all_ that happened."

"Caleb says he knows the color of his_ underwear!_" Caleb's mother half hissed, making the word underwear sound like a slang term for genitalia. As if just seeing an adult's underwear would instantly scar her little boy for life, leaving him nothing but a broken shell of a child. Caleb himself was in her arms, looking slightly amused as if this whole scene was being put on for his entertainment and maybe, just _maybe_, he found it worthy.

"Because he tugged on my pants and they slipped down! Just a tiny bit! The kid barely even saw the waistband!" Seth yelped, feeling like everything he said just made things worse. "My back was to him, and he wanted to get my attention, so he tugged on my pants! Nothing perverted was going on, this is just a _huge_ misunderstanding!"

The police officer looked from Seth to Caleb's mother, as if he wasn't sure what he should do. Something in Seth's demeanor told him Seth was telling the truth, but these days, especially with kids, you couldn't be too careful. He looked at Caleb, "Are you all right, son?"

"My name is _Caleb_," Caleb said, looking remarkably calm in the midst of all the chaos. "I'm fine. Seth helped me find my Mommy, 'cause I lost her."

"Is that all?" the officer asked, smiling warmly at Caleb. He worked in this place a lot, and over the years had developed an easy attitude with kids. "He just helped you find your Mom?"

"No, he helped me so I could wash my hands, too," Caleb said, again looking weary as if he so tired of having to constantly _explain_ things to silly adults. "Because I had to pee. I knew Mommy wasn't in the men's room, because that's for boys and she's not a boy. She doesn't have a pee-pee, and that's why she can't go into the men's room. But I had to go, and I thought maybe Mommy went in there to find me, even though she isn't _'posed_ to be there. But she didn't, but Seth said he'd help me find her." He looked at his mother. "Can I have a soda? I'm thirsty."

"Well," the police officer said, choosing his words carefully, "I think it's pretty clear that the boy is fine and nothing happened."

"Miss," Roman said, looking at Caleb's mother again. "I can vouch for my friend here." His voice was soft yet reassuring. "I have a little girl about Caleb's age and she adores Seth. He'd _never_ hurt a child. My little girl is the world to me, and if I thought Seth would even _think_ about harming her, I wouldn't let him anywhere near her. But I know he never would."

"Thank you!" Seth said, annoyed but grateful. _Please let this work, please let Roman calm this woman down__ and please lady, listen to the nice police officer and realize I did not do anything perverted with your son! _

"I was in the bathroom when they were," a man in the crowd spoke out, coming forward, a gentleman wearing the clothes and possessing the demeanor of a traveling business man who had just popped in to use the facilities and possibly grab a quick bite to eat. "I didn't see anything unusual. This guy," he indicated Seth, "was keeping his distance while the boy took care of business. And I heard the kid asking to find his mother."

Seth looked in the man's direction with an expression of extreme gratitude. "Thank you," he said.

The police officer looked at Caleb's mother. "If you want, we can go in the back and discuss this, and if you insist, we'll take action, but I think this is one of those situations where all's well that ends well. Do you agree?"

"Yes," the woman said, but she was looking right at Roman, who never broke eye contact with her. "I think that would be fine..."

Roman gave her a warm smile. "Thank you, Miss-"

"Emily," the woman interjected.

"Thank you, Emily," Roman said. He reached out and gave Caleb's shirt a small, friendly tug. "Nice to meet you, too, little man."

"Caleb," the boy said, rolling his eyes and sighing as he spoke, clearly completely underwhelmed with all the attention this whole incident was causing. "My name is _Caleb."_

* * *

><p>As they headed back to the car, Roman was grinning, clearly trying not to burst out laughing, which was not making Seth feel any better about the whole thing. "Showing kids your underwear, huh?" he asked.<p>

Seth glared over at him. "It was an accident! He tugged on _my_ pants."

"Sure, sure," Roman said, that smirk still clear on his face. "Well, at least no one recognized us. Imagine if someone had."

"Oh _God_, don't remind me," Seth said with a groan. "That would have been a disaster. Thank _god_ for hoodies and glasses."

"I wonder what Dean will say when we tell him about this?" Roman pondered, not looking at Seth, afraid if he did, he'd start laughing.

Seth abruptly stopped walking and looked at Roman. "What do you want, Roman? Money? My Smart phone? A Promise? The promise that I'll babysit for Leah every free moment I have until she's eighteen? The promise that if we're ever fighting for the championship, no matter what the script says, I'll let you win? Name it, it's yours. Just please, please, _pretty_ please, promise me that you won't tell Dean about this, okay? Because he'll never give me a second of peace for the rest of the drive. Hell, he won't let me forget it for the rest of the year!" He shuddered thinking of all the ways Dean would embarrass him if he ever found out about this.

Roman's grin widened. "There's nothing I want...now," he said, "But in the future, there may come an opportunity for you to do me..." he paused for dramatic effect then said, "a _favor._"

"That's blackmail!" Seth protested, feeling like Roman was putting a very sharp ax over his head, an ax that was only held aloft by the thinnest of strings.

"There's nothing I want or need right now," Roman shrugged as if to indicate it was no big deal to him. "This might change in the future. Either way, it's no big deal to me, so that's the offer. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it."

_End of Pt III_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Yes, I was mean to Seth. But he came out of it okay and I just figured that Dean deserved to not be in trouble for at least part of this journey. <strong>_

_**Iremmy**** Thank you. I'm pretty sure that the real life counterparts for Roman, Seth, and Dean do not have Nerf wars (because if they did, it would be all over You Tube) but I just like the idea and I know it's a lot better than waiting around for something to happen. **_

_**AJAmbrolleigns **** I'd still travel with Dean, even if he was being this annoying. Honestly, I don't have Dean doing half the stuff the three guys I used to drive around did. But, in Dean's defense, some people do not do well with boredom. And a long car trip, unless you've planned, can be **_**very_ boring. _**

_**Just A Reader**** There is a very good possibility of a Nerf fight ****before this story ends. **_

_**Pipe Bomb Dreams**** Thank you for your review, I think? I respect your opinion, but to be perfectly honest, I am completely baffled by it. Yes, I admit, I have Dean acting immature, but I don't know if I'd say he's uncool. Dean wasn't driving at first because he wanted to sleep in the back, because he was up late the night before (possibly doing very cool things, I'm not sure) Seth and Roman drove in this story, and I've always assumed that they're cool (at least Seth was when he was in The Shield) I have written stories where Dean has driven before, so I'm not saying he can't drive, it's just in this particular story he did not. I mean, I figure he has his license and all such. And yes, I admit, peeing on someone's shoes is not very cool, but if you've ever startled a guy who had his back to you, peeing, you'd know that it can happen. I speak from experience. **_

_**To everyone else that left a review? I have responded by PM, but I still would like to say thank you. I really appreciate that you took those extra few minutes to let me know what you think, it means a lot to me. **_

_**If you've read this far and haven't left a review, why not consider it? I like to know who's taking this journey with me and I like to know why they liked (or didn't like) the story. I respond to all feedback, either by PM or, as you can see, I respond in the author's notes for the next chapter. **_

_**Until Part IV, take care.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose are the property of the WWE and/or the Sports entertainers/actors/superstars that play them. I have absolutely no claim on them at all. This fanfiction was written as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers/superstars. **

**The original characters in this story are products of my own imagination and any resemblance to them and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p>Road Trip<p>

Part IV

By the time they got to the car, Dean had moved it away from the pumps and over to a small parking lot near the gas station. "What took you guys so long?" he demanded.

"Huge lines in the food court," Roman smoothly lied.

"Well, _something_ was going on in there," Dean said, shaking his head and pointing to a huge line of traffic waiting to get on to the highway. "They stopped anyone from leaving this place and the cops were all around here. They came over and looked in the car and the trunk while I was here, but wouldn't tell me what was going on. Do you have any idea what happened?"

"None at all," Seth lied himself, looking at the line of traffic waiting to leave and groaning. "This is going to hold us up."

"Then we might as well eat," Dean suggested cheerfully, taking the bag from Roman. "What did you get?"

"Turkey subs," Roman said. "With all the veggies."

"Turkey?" Dean's lips curled up in a sneer, "Damn it, Roman, I know you like turkey, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world does. Just please tell me it's not on that stupid flat bread. That's like eating meat on a soggy cracker."

"No, I got you and I the multigrain bread," Roman said. "Seth has the flat bread."

"Good," Seth said. "I like the flat bread."

There was a low stone wall along the edge of the sidewalk, right near the car. The three men sat down. Dean passed out the subs. When he opened his and looked inside, he groaned. "Bro, no bacon?"

"Nope," Roman said, biting into his own sub. "I forgot. It's not like it's that important."

"Yes it is," Dean stubbornly insisted. "It's the candy of meats and I like it on my sub."

"Too bad, so sad," Roman said, cheerfully. "At least I remembered you liked Swiss cheese."

"Swiss cheese is no substitute for bacon," Dean griped, but he bit into his sub.

* * *

><p>By the time they finished their lunch, traffic was back to normal, so they got out on the highway quickly, Roman behind the wheel now. Seth offered to sit in the back seat, but Dean said it was okay, he'd stay in the back and then surprised both Roman and Seth by falling asleep easily. "He's out like a light," Seth said, leaning around to look at him.<p>

"Boredom sleep," Roman said. "But, if we're lucky, he'll stay that way for awhile."

He did sleep for almost two hours, two hours where Roman drove just a bit faster than he should, which helped make up for some of the time they had lost getting lunch. Not all of it, but enough so that Seth was convinced they could get to the hotel, change as fast as possible into business attire and make it to the arena just in time for "late call" He began to relax, enjoying being the passenger, convinced that while they didn't have all the time in the world, they had enough to do what needed to be done.

Then Dean woke up with a start, thrashing about. He was lying on the back seat, but he started kicking the back Seth's seat with his left leg, rapidly, insistently. Move your seat up, Seth, move it up, NOW!"

"Hey!" Seth said sharply, "I'm up as far as I can go, okay?"

"My leg is cramping," Dean said through gritted teeth. He twisted around in the seat and started thumping is knee into the back of the passenger's seat. "Seth, you have to move up, now. I swear, it's killing me!"

"Then stretch out on the seat!" Seth protested.

"It isn't long enough," Dean objected. "C'mon, I have to stretch!" He kicked Seth's seat again and again with the uninjured foot.

"Dean!"

"Seth, I'm_ serious!_" Dean cried out, and to be honest, there was a hint of pain in his voice. "I need to stretch my leg, my calf muscles are cramping, really bad!"

"Dean!" Roman called out, his voice sharper than usual. "Sit in the middle, put your leg on the console between the two seats, okay?"

"But-" Dean began.

"Don't argue!" Roman insisted, "Just _do_ it."

Dean did as requested, making sharp, hissing little noises as he moved his leg. Seth almost had some sympathy for him. His toes were curled up in his sneakers and looking as if they were going to freeze in that position.

"This fucking _sucks!_" Dean muttered angrily.

"It's just nocturnal leg cramps," Roman said. "Try to bend your foot and wiggle your toes."

"I've had those before!" Dean disagreed. "This feels _worse._" He gritted his teeth and forced himself to uncurl his toes. "This sucks this sucks this sucks."

_It's always this kind of stuff that messes __us__ up,_ Seth thought, feeling the sympathy start as he realized this wasn't just Dean being bored. All three of them could take enormous amounts of pain. They had dislocated bones and kept going, they had torn ligaments and kept going. It was the nature of the business and if you wanted to make it in your first day of training, you learned that your pain was nothing but an obstacle to work through. And in the ring? It worked. In workouts? It worked. You listened to the pain, assessed the damage as fast as possible, and kept going. After, when you could, you dealt with it. But sometimes, it was the simple things, the aches and pains that everyone suffered, the ones that came outside of the workout and outside of the ring that actually felt like they would bring you down.

Seth had once worked with a wrestler who had an appendix burst at the beginning of a 60 minute iron man match. He rolled out of the ring, stuck his head under the apron and vomited. Then, he got right back up into the ring, completed his match, walked back stage, did some photographs and autographs for fans, then drove himself to the hospital, where he finally passed out in triage. This same wrestler, once he came back, six months later, in the ring, broke his leg resulting in a compound fracture, which his boots covered. Again, he finished the match before notifying anyone. Yet, this same wrestler would be almost to the point of tears every time an arm or leg fell asleep and he went through the pins and needles stage. It was like that was the pain his body just quit at. "Break my bones? Fine. Rupture my organs? Child's play. Pins and needles? Screw that, I'm going to cripple right up!"

"It _is_ nocturnal cramping, it's just really bad," Roman said. "You haven't been drinking as much water today, you've been sitting a lot and you just slept. Keep working the muscle."

"Thissucksthissucks_thissucks_," Dean hissed, trying to flex his foot, but having trouble.

"Grab some water out of the cooler," Roman insisted.

As Dean did what Roman requested, Seth turned as best he could with his seat belt on and ran his hand down Dean's calf. Right at the thickest part of the calf was a knot that was so hard and so large it felt like someone had put a baseball under his skin. Seth grasped the area, fingers on top of his leg, thumb on the center of the knot, and started rubbing at the knot with the ball of his thumb.

"_I hate your fucking guts!_" Dean roared at Seth, almost dropping the bottle of water he had taken from the cooler. "You are the biggest _asshole_ the world has ever known! Your father was an _ass_, your mother was a _hole_, and thus they produced you, _asshole!_"

"I love you, too, Dean," Seth said, rubbing the area harder, really pressing his thumb into that hard lump, trying to force it to let go. He wasn't at all worried about Dean's declaration of hate, knowing it was the pain talking. And to be honest, Seth had never felt a muscle knotted as tightly as this one was. The rubbing he was doing was barely having any effect.

"Keep flexing your foot," Roman said. "Curl them back as if you're pointing to your face, then like you're pointing up at the ceiling, then point to the radio." He was using his calm voice, the same voice he used when his daughter suffered aches and pains, the same voice he used when any of them were physically hurt. It was a reassuring voice, just the right levels of calm and soothing that your mind started to believe everything _must_ be all right, because no one would be able to be _that_ relaxed if something serious was going on. "And drink that water, okay?"

Dean opened the bottle and drank down half of it without pausing. "Okay, I think it's helping," he said. He started moving his foot the way Roman told him, toes pointing to his face, the ceiling, then the radio. And even though it hurt like the devil, having Seth rubbing that knot, the knot was starting to untie itself, letting the muscles go back into place. "God that hurt," he gasped. "I feel like a wuss for getting upset, but Jesus, that really, _really_, hurt."

"Yep," Roman said. "I used to get bad ones back in my early football days, when I was still in high school," he commented. "I'd work out so hard that I'd come home, eat dinner and just go to bed. And I'd always wake up with with those godawful cramps. I finally told my dad who rolled his eyes and said, 'you're not drinking enough water.' Every night he'd make me drink four or five big glasses of water or unsweetened iced tea before I went to bed. Sure, I had to wake up at least twice a night to pee, but the cramps stopped. My Mom also put a bar of soap in my bed. I don't know if it was the extra fluid or the bar of soap or a combination, but I almost never got those cramps again."

"A bar of _soap?_" Dean asked.

"Yeah, a bar of soap. Ivory is the best, but almost any type of soap will work, except for Dial." Roman shrugged. "You just throw it in the bed. Mom learned it from her mother, who learned it from her grandmother, so on and so forth."

"It sounds like an old wives tale," Dean said, looking skeptical.

"I know," Roman agreed. "It does, but get on the 'net sometime and Google it, there are all sorts of theories about why it might work, but mostly, people claim it _does_ work. It's one of those weird things that I figure someone will eventually find out why it does what it does."

"Placebo effect?" Seth offered.

"That's what I thought too," Roman said. "But there are a lot of stories about people who refused to try it, but their bed partner sneaked it in without them knowing about it, and the cramps stopped that night. Or stories about the cramps coming back and people finding out the soap had fallen out of the bed. Also, after a few weeks the soap stops working so you have to score the outside with a knife or something, and it will work again. That tells me that there's something in soap that gets released under the covers that tells the muscles not to cramp."

"Interesting," Seth said. And it was kind-of interesting. Or, maybe it just seemed interesting because there wasn't much else exciting going on.

"What I want to know," Dean pondered as he finished one bottle of water and fished in the cooler for his second. "is how did someone discover it worked? Who thought to themselves, 'hey, let's throw some soap between the sheets and see what happens!' and then connected it to leg cramps. 'Hey, since I started having an affair with a bar of soap, my leg cramps have stopped!'"

"Maybe someone noticed that on days when they had freshly washed sheets on the bed, they stopped having leg cramps," Seth pondered. "And they connected it that way. They figured out that on the day the sheets were washed, they probably had soapy residue, but as time passed, it stopped working, so they thought maybe I should just sleep with some soap and see if that does it."

"I don't see how you'd connect laundry detergent with a bar of soap," Dean countered. He pulled three bottles out of the cooler and leaning forward, he put two of them in the spots on the consol on either side of his foot.

"People used to wash laundry with bars of soap," Seth said, accepting the water. "They still sell some types of laundry soap in bars."

"Oh," Dean thought about this then shook his head. "Do you believe it? Here we are, philosophizing about soap."

Seth and Roman chuckled. Dean was right, it was a little strange. "Is the leg feeling better?" Roman asked as he opend the bottle of water Dean had put up in the holder for him and took a big swallow.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. Seth had already removed his hand, because the knot was gone. "It's still kind of sore though. It was _really_ knotted up."

"You need to work it," Roman said. "And I know just the solution," he added as they passed a sign that indicated there was a rest stop up ahead.

"Roman!" Seth warned, having seen the stop himself.

Roman looked at him. "_Leg cramp_, Seth. He needs to stretch out his leg. Hell, we _all_ need to stretch out. And a Nerf war is a perfect solution."

"Roman, we don't have the time!" Seth protested.

"Nerf war!" Dean crowed happily, fist pumping the air. "Yes!"

"Look, we'll play for a short time, like an hour, maybe even less," Roman proposed, as he signaled and moved into the far right lane preparing to pull into the rest stop. "Then, instead of the hotel, we'll go right to the arena. We'll slip into the locker room and change into our report-for-work suits before anyone sees us."

"But-" Seth started.

"-_Nerf war!_" Dean interrupted, gleefully bouncing up and down in his seat like an eager child. "C'mon, Seth, _Neeeeeerrrrrrrrfffff_ war!"

Seth drew in a deep breath knowing protesting was useless. Then he shook his head. "All right," he said, giving in, a small part of him actually glad to be losing, because yes, despite that it was the worst idea ever, part of him was eager to have a Nerf war. Roman and Dean weren't the only ones who were feeling like they had spent way too much time sitting today. And, he had the feeling that if he didn't agree, Roman might blurt out to Dean about Caleb. _I think that from here out when someone talks about the C word, I'll first think Caleb,_ he thought. _Thanks kid, at least I've crossed one name off the list of potential handles for future offspring. _

"All right!" Dean shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

"Under one condition!" Seth said, raising his index finger in the air.

"What?" Roman asked.

"That I get to keep the car keys on me," Seth said. "I don't want either of you trying to get us to stay longer than we should. We have forty five minutes to play, then we _have_ to leave, no questions, no problems, right?"

"Sounds fair," Roman said, as he pulled into the rest stop. When he parked the car in the lot, he handed the keys to Seth then started removing his seat belt.

_End of Pt IV_

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><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Yes, a Nerf battlewar/fight will be in the next section, I promise. **_

_**I****remmy**** Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying the story and hope you continue to. You've pretty much supported everything I've written for this site and I appreciate that a lot! **_

_**Just A Reader**** Thank you, I'm glad I could make you laugh. And yeah... I don't think I have Dean being uncool, but apparently, there are some who disagree. In truth, I don't see Dean as "cool." "Cool" implies laid back. Dean is awesome, he is not laid back. ****And yes, Caleb would get on anyone's nerves. I based him on a kid I used to babysit for. I like kids, but that one drove me up the wall. **_

_**Anyone else reading this? If you haven't taken the time to leave a review, I'd really appreciate it if you did. Reviews are the stuff that keeps me going and encourages me to share, rather than just keep this stuff on my hard drive. **_


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose are the property of the WWE and/or the Sports entertainers/actors/superstars that play them. I have absolutely no claim on them at all. This fanfiction was written as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers/superstars. **

**The original characters in this story are products of my own imagination and any resemblance to them and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Road Trip<br>**_**Part V**_

"All right!" Dean said, looking around the rest stop. "This place is perfect!" And it was, too. No food court, no playground equipment, just a small building with a men's and ladies room in it and a fairly large picnic area. And it was quiet too, almost no cars were parked out there.

The three men got out of the car and went around to the trunk to get the things they needed. "Let's play Defend the Base," Roman suggested, as he grabbed his duffel bag and opened it, looking for his Nerf equipment.

"Yeah, Base!" Dean happily agreed, using the abbreviated name for the game.

When he opened his duffel bag, Seth pulled out a deck of cards, another necessity when traveling. They were small enough to fit easily into a small pocket or a shaving kit bag and you only had to be trapped in a place without power once to know the value of them. But, when it came to Nerf wars, they served another purpose. He shook the deck out of the box, fanned it and held it out. Roman took a card, and Dean took a card. He handed the rest of the deck to Roman, who did a quick shuffle, and held out the cards for Seth, who took one. Then they all showed their cards. Roman had a King, Seth a seven, and Dean a deuce.

"All right!" Roman pumped his fist in the air. "I get the base first!"

Only having the three of them to play, most of the time, they had to devise some simple games and Defend the Base was one of their favorites. Whoever got the highest card got two minutes to stake out and make a "base" with whatever was available. The other two had to start a distance away, distance determined by the location, but if possible at least seventy-five feet. The object of the game? The person who had the base had to defend it, the other two had to try to take it over. If the "Defender" shot one of the "Attackers," that person had to go back to the starting line and go again. If either of the attackers shot the defender, then the attacker who fired the shot got be the defender while the former defender was now an attacker and had to start at the starting area.

Sometimes, additional rules had to be made to compensate for location, but usually all that was needed were the basic rules.

The three men picked their weapons. Roman pulled out his Longshot CS-6 and the ammo. Seth grabbed his Maverick, but for ammo, he loaded the sonic microdarts he favored. Sure, the noise was a little annoying if you were trying to stay hidden, but the distance they added over the regular ammo was far superior. Dean had a Rayven CS-18 blaster.

They picked out the area, safely away from the bathrooms, over by the picnic tables. It was a wooded area and fortunately, it was deserted. There were a couple of trees close together that made a good starting point. "Okay, Seth said, looking at Roman, "Your two minutes starts...NOW!"

Roman ran off as Seth kept track of the time using a stopwatch application on his cell phone. Dean used the time to make sure his gun was loaded and extra ammo was in easy access.

The starting point was at the top of a slight incline, which could prove to be an advantage for Seth and Dean, so Roman went as far out as he could, over towards the end of the picnic tables. They were chained to prevent theft, but only one leg was chained and it had enough slack that it could be moved. He easily flipped it over on its end, the bottom facing towards him. These were those metal and plastic tables. He'd have to keep low so he wouldn't clonk his head on the upper legs, and he would have appreciated something a bit wider, but it would work. With the remaining time, he made sure his gun was loaded and he had his extra ammo at easy access. He finished with a few seconds to spare, so he raised his hand over the table and gave the thumbs up signal to Dean and Seth.

"Go!" Seth shouted.

Dean and Seth immediately split up, heading down the incline towards Roman. They knew they had some distance before they would be in firing range, so they used the time to put some distance between the two of them, to make it more difficult for Roman to keep an eye on both of them. There was no official rule against attackers shooting each other, and sometimes that happened, but usually attackers only worried about the defender, at least at the beginning. Attackers were more likely to go after each other if they were both close to the base, forcing one of them to have to return to the beginning so the other could take over the base.

The only other "major" rule was that attackers could not hide for more than ten seconds (although that time had been played with before, depending on how much time they had for a game) to keep the game moving. The rule had been added when at one place, Seth had found a great base and the other two terrific hiding places, so the battle just stalled.

Seth ran to Roman's right and Dean to his left. Roman did his best to keep an eye on both of them, but it wasn't easy while trying to peek around a picnic table. Since Seth seemed to be approaching a little faster, he decided to keep a closer eye on him, and try to watch Dean from the corner.

Seth was almost in striking distance when he ducked behind a trash can and counted to ten. Roman turned his attention back to Dean, moving to look out the other side of the picnic table. When Dean saw Roman was watching him carefully, he moved over, taking cover behind another picnic table, which did offer some protection, but didn't cover him entirely. Roman took his first shot at Dean, and missed wildly. Dean returned fire, but it bounced harmlessly off the picnic table Roman was using for cover. Roman stuck his tongue out at Dean in a "Nyah Nyah!" gesture that made Dean growl and flip Roman the bird.

Meanwhile, Seth used the distraction to get closer to Roman, then disappeared behind another trash barrel. This one smelled godawful, like someone had thrown away rotted meat and used diapers, but he tried to ignore it. It wasn't easy.

Roman had turned his attention back to finding Seth, peering out on the right. He noticed a swarm of flies swooping up in the air as if something had disturbed them from a delicious garbage dinner. _Seth,_ he thought, and trained his gun.

Sure enough, Seth came out from behind the garbage can. Roman took aim and fired, this time with success, hitting Seth in the chest.

"Damn it!" Seth cried out, as he headed for the starting station. He had picked up the "bullet" Roman had used, which was one of their courtesy rules, when possible retrieve ammo. Worry about whose ammo it was later.

Meanwhile, Dean took advantage of Roman's melee with Seth by using the time to rush forward, getting to where he was almost to the side side of Roman, but hidden in a small scrub of bushes. He bided his time, waiting for Roman to pull back and go to the left, to try to locate him. When he did, Dean fired. Roman saw just in time and rolled to avoid it. He missed the shot, but he was further away from his base now. Dean came charging out of the bushes, firing as fast as possible. Roman took a hit to the shoulder.

"My base now, bro!" Dean cried, running over to the table.

"Son of a- Roman began, but didn't finish. He gathered his gun and ammo and took off for the starting station. Dean scrunched behind the picnic table and started looking for Seth. But Seth had taken advantage of the changing of the guard, and before Dean could locate him, Seth leaped out from behind a nearby tree and fired at pretty close to point blank range. The shot hit Dean's head and Seth now owned the base.

For a bit, the base seemed to be claimed in turn, Roman, Dean, then Seth, but then Seth was able to get it, then Dean, then Seth again, when he managed to get up to a low branch in the same tree he had used for cover the first time. From there, it was an easy shot to get Dean again.

They kept playing, the game getting less organized and more chaotic the longer they played. Sometimes shots actually hit their intended target and were ignored. "I didn't feel that, it must have missed!" being the usual defense. Sure, they could argue about it, but the point wasn't to win, this game really had no clear winner, the point was to run around, burn energy, and most important, have fun.

At one point when Seth had the base and was paying attention to Roman, who was heading down the incline, moving damned fast and looking like his goal was to just rip through everything and pray he didn't get hit, Dean, who had been hiding in the same group of bushes he'd hidden in before, jumped out and sprang on top of the overturned picnic table/base, balancing on the edge lightly, on just the balls of his feet. He lowered his gun so it was inches away from Seth and before Seth could react, he opened fire.

As Seth was rolling out of the way to go back to the start point, Roman caught up and fired, hitting Dean square in the back. Dean pitched forward as if he was going to fall on his face, but at the last moment, curled up into a perfect vertical roll and sprang up to his feet. "Pretty good for a dead man!" he quipped.

"Look, this is a good place to call it," Seth said, as Roman caught up to the both of them. "We should get going."

"Aw, really?" Dean looked disappointed. "Can't we just have _one_ more fight?"

Seth grabbed his phone and checked the time, gasping. "No, we can't. We're _late,_ c'mon!" He started running for the car, Dean hot behind him. Roman quickly set the picnic table right and ran after them.

_Shit,_ Seth thought as he sprinted, _we are leaving a __**lot **__of ammo behind._ Lost ammo was common place with their games, but usually they could recover most of it. Today though, there was no time to hunt. The meant-to-be forty five minute game had gone almost two hours.

They realized when they were heading for the car, that they had an audience. Standing on the sidewalk just beyond the parking area were several people, a few who started clapping as they raced to the car.

Dean paused, raised both his hands in the air, his one hand pointing the gun at the sky and ran as if he were doing a victory sprint. A group of girls who looked to be around their ages, perhaps a few years younger, were watching with looks that said they really hoped the three of them would slow down and talk to them. Roman grinned in their direction, giving a short nod of his head. Roman was good at that, at doing quick little eye contact things that made women feel as if he noticed them. He never took it any further in walk by situations, but the female fans just loved it. "OMG, Roman Reigns noticed _me! _ He looked right at_ me!" _

"Hey," a guy who looked to be in his late teens perhaps early twenties and wearing an NWO T-shirt called out. "Aren't you guys The Shield?"

"No!" Dean called out as they got to the car, "We're just the winners of The Shield Look Alike Contest!"

_End of Pt V_

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><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Yeah.. action scenes are not my forte, so I hope you folks liked this one. <strong>_

_**Iremmy: That soap trick I mentioned in part 4 actually does work. If you don't believe me, Google it. I've been having my own personal affair with Ivory soap for a couple of years and it's been two years since I woke up with leg cramps. I find it even helps with RLS (Restless Leg Syndrome) And yeah, thank you for the compliments on my writing. It's nice to know people like my stuff.**_

_**If you've been reading and haven't left a review, now is the perfect time. :-) **_

_**See you next time for the conclusion. **_


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose and Triple H are the property of the WWE and/or the Sports entertainers/actors/superstars that play them. I have absolutely no claim on them at all. This fanfiction was written as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers/superstars. **

**The original characters in this story are products of my own imagination and any resemblance to them and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Road Trip<strong>

_**Part VI (The Conclusion)**_

The three of them jumped into the car, not bothering to put the guns back in the trunk. Seth had the keys, so he automatically got to drive again. Roman and Dean took their former places. Seth cranked the engine over as he handed Roman his gun. Roman handed both guns to Dean in the back seat. Seth backed up, then threw the car rather unceremoniously into drive and raced off as fast as he dared, putting on his seat belt as they drove.

"Be careful," Dean remarked as Seth struggled to get the belt on and maneuver the car on to the highway. "Imagine if you got in an accident and died now. They'd put on your tombstone, 'He died putting his seat belt on.'"

"Yeah? You'd probably make sure of that, wouldn't you?" Seth called back as the seat belt clicked into place. He was in the far right lane, but the middle one was clear, so he flicked on the turn signal and drove over.

"Absolutely," Dean said with a grin. "I wouldn't be able to pass that up." He looked out the back window. "We aren't being followed."

"Good," Seth said. They had been followed before, by fans that had recognized them, a hazard of being in the public eye, and one they usually tolerated, but they really didn't have time today to lose someone while driving.

They drove along, Seth having to watch himself from speeding. Yes, he wanted to make up for lost time, but a pull over for a speeding would likely cost them any time they would have made up and more, so he did his best to keep the car no more than five miles over the speed limit, and to watch out carefully for signs of potential speed traps.

As they reached closer to Charlotte, the traffic started getting heavier as it was now rush hour. "We are screwed blued, and tattooed," Seth muttered, half to himself as he saw the time on the dashboard, they were already five minutes past their late arrival time.

"We'll get there," Roman assured him. "Late, yeah, but we'll get there."

"This isn't very professional," Seth commented, gritting his teeth.

"If you're worried, I'll pay the fine," Dean said, shrugging. "I don't care."

"No," Seth said. "I'm just as much at fault for us being late as you are, maybe even more so."

"How's that?" Dean asked, hanging over the seat. "It wasn't your fault the rest stop was busy."

_Oh, crap, that's right,_ Seth thought, remembering that they hadn't told Dean of the incident involving Caleb. "Uh," he said out loud, "Well..." He was hoping inspiration would hit him. None did.

"He feels responsible because he picked that particular rest stop," Roman said, lying smoothly. "You know how our Seth is. He likes to be in charge when we're on the road, so he takes responsibility for everything, even the things that are out of his control."

"Oh," Dean said and shrugged.

Seth's cell phone started playing a generic ring tone. It was sitting in the little coin area under the dash. Roman grabbed it and looked. "It's the boss," he said.

"Don't answer it," Seth said. He didn't like talking on his cell phone when he was driving and he really didn't want to be yelled at, either.

After a minute or so, the phone quieted. Less than a thirty seconds later, Roman's phone started playing Triple H's theme music. "Don't answer that!" Seth shouted. Roman looked at Seth, then at the phone, then shrugged and ignored it.

When Dean's phone began playing "Electrifying," Roman and Seth looked at each other. "Quick, give me a piece of paper!" Dean said. "C'mon, quickly!"

Roman opened the glove compartment and handed Dean a piece of paper from the car rental agency that listed various phone numbers. Dean grabbed it and answered the phone. "Hi, Hunter!" he said, his voice cheerful. "Yeah, we're on our way! There was an accident back in West Virginia. No, not on the main roads, we took the back roads. Yeah, that tied us up... no, really we're just about there...I can see the stadium from here! No, seriously, I can!"

Roman and Seth exchanged looks before Seth's gaze went back to the road and Roman's back to Dean who was still cheerfully lying about how close they were to the ring.

"Minutes, Triple H, it's going to be minutes. Seriously, we're almost on top of the place." He started crinkling the paper near the phone. "What's that? Huh? I'm sorry, the call is breaking up, I'm getting nothing but static. We're coming up on a tun-" he disconnected the call and looked smugly at Seth and Roman. "_That's_ how you do it."

"Great," Seth groaned. "He thinks we'll be there in minutes, when it's going to take us at least another half hour."

Dean shrugged. "He'll go off, get involved in something else and forget. By the time he's done with whatever else he gets involved with and remembers, we'll be there. It'll work, you'll see."

Seth stared at him, through the rear view mirror, then turned to Roman, "Do _you_ think it will work?"

Roman answered his question with one of his own, "Do _we_ have a choice?"

"Good point."

* * *

><p>Due to the GPS giving one bad turn, they didn't pull into the stadium until closer to 45 minutes later, which meant they had to park in the very back of the "house" parking. They leaped out of the car, ran to the trunk and pulled out their "business" attire and started running for the back door.<p>

"Why are you still carrying your Nerf gun?" Roman asked, as they hurried.

Dean stared at it, then shrugged. "I forgot I was holding it, I was going to just toss it in the trunk. Oh well, I'll have to bring it in with me, I don't have time to run back to the car."

When they got to the door, one of the security people shook his head. "Mr. Helmsley has asked about you _several_ times," he said, looking at them with clear disapproval. "You'd better hurry, you're in trouble."

They ran inside and down the hall, looking for either a locker room or a men's room where they could change. They thought luck was with them when almost immediately, they found a tiny dressing room, so small and out of the way that it hadn't been assigned to anyone. The three men almost tripped over each other trying to get in the door. "Okay, we're already in trouble for being really late," Seth said. "Let's at least try to avoid being fined for being out of-"

"Out of, what, Mr. Rollins?" came a voice from behind them, also entering the room.

All three men turned and two of them groaned. In all his glory, perfectly groomed and looking as if he had been sitting in an air conditioned room all day, stood their boss, sporting an expression that perfectly blended amusement, annoyance, and exasperation.

"Uh oh," Seth whispered.

"Shoot," Roman muttered, "busted."

"Hi, Trips!" Dean called, waving happily as if they were seeing each other at a party from across the room. "How's it going?"

"Are you gentlemen aware that you are late?" Hunter said, looking at them coldly. "And I'm not talking about _just_ late. You had permission to miss the first call, but you _assured_ me you'd make late call. Then you missed _that_. And then, when I spoke to you on the phone, Mr. Ambrose, you assured me that you would be here in _moments_. That was close to an _hour_ ago."

The three men exchanged looks, but said nothing.

"Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

Dean looked at Hunter and before anyone could stop him, raised his Nerf gun and fired. The foam projectile hit Triple H squarely in the forehead and then fell to the floor.

Roman and Seth froze.

Triple H stared at Dean, then slowly raised his hand to his forehead as if he could not believe what had just happened.

Dean shot him again, this one hitting his right shoulder.

Again, Hunter just stared at Dean as if he'd managed to grow a third eye in his forehead. "Dean, what the hell are you _doing?"_ He asked.

"Distracting you from the main issue," Dean said brightly. "Is it working?"

"Not exactly," Hunter's voice was desert dry. "Don't bother to change into your business attire, gentlemen. Suit up for the show, you're coming in on the opening. Report to me when you're ready and I'll fill you in. And, Dean?" he looked over at Dean, his expression getting even sterner than it was. "Give me your gun." He held his hand out.

"No!" Dean protested. "It's _mine_."

"Mr. Ambrose," Hunter repeated. "The gun, now."

Dean stared at the gun, stared at Triple H, then at the gun again. "Do I _have _to?"

"Dean," Triple H glared at him, hand still outstretched. "This is not up for debate. You will give me that gun and you will give it to me, now."

With a scowl on his face, Dean handed over the gun.

"Thank you," Hunter looked it over for a moment, and nodded. "You may pick your toy up _after_ the show."

"Yes, Triple H," Dean said, looking unhappy and annoyed at the same time.

Triple H turned and headed for the door. When he had it open, he paused and turned. "Oh, and Dean? One other thing?" As Dean looked up, Hunter aimed the Nerf gun and fired, hitting him point blank in the chest. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room, still holding Dean's gun.

Seth and Roman looked at each other and tried not to laugh. Seth was fairly successful, but Roman couldn't help but chuckle, although he tried to suppress it.

"He better give it back when the show is over," Dean muttered, picking up the "bullet" that was lying at his feet. "That's my favorite. If he breaks it, he's gonna have to buy me another one, that cost me forty bucks!"

Seth shook his head, wondering how much trouble they were in. He looked over at Roman. "Remember earlier, when we were in the car, and I told you that I was glad we were driving, that it was so much more relaxing than flying, so much less hassle?"

Roman nodded, grinning. "I remember."

"Well," Seth said, pulling off his travel shirt and reaching for his black T-shirt, "I lied."

_The End. _

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><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Well we're at the end of another story. Oddly, this was one of the hardest ones I ever wrote. I had trouble staying with it. But, I'm glad I did, people seemed to have enjoyed it.<strong>_

_**Iremmy I hope the soap trick works for you and I hope you enjoyed the story through the end. Thank you for leaving me all those reviews, I so appreciate it.**_

_**jjramz  Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed the story. **_

_**Guest: Thank you. I try to keep the boys in character. Of course, what is considered IC may vary from person to person, but Shield, I figured, had a great dynamic both in and out of the ring and that's what I'm trying to show. Yes, sure Seth is frustrated with Dean, but hey, family always gets on each others nerves. **_

_**Everyone else who took the time to review? Thank you so very much, it means a lot to me. **_

_**To those who read and didn't review? While I appreciate that you've read my work, it doesn't do me much good if you don't let me know what you think of it, good or bad. So, can't you take those few minute? I'd appreciate it. And if you have an account on FFnet, I'll even send you a bright, shiny, thank you note that you can print out and frame, or ignore, or just admire on your computer screen, knowing you've done your good deed for an amateur writer today.  
><strong>_

_**Until next time (and, unless something comes along that demands to be written first, the next project is the sequel to Chasing the Moonlight) take care and thanks for taking this journey with me.  
><strong>_


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